


Good Boy

by true_alpha



Series: Hot For Teacher [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 02:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/true_alpha/pseuds/true_alpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles decides to sext Derek while he's at work. Derek comes home and decides it's time for Stiles' punishment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Boy

Derek's first day of work was going surprisingly well. His first classes hadn't had any major disruptions. He can be intimating looking, he knows that, and apparently, that's enough to keep any stupid high school kids from hazing him. 

At lunch, Derek turns his cell phone back on. He has a text from Laura asking how his day was going and one from Scott asking if he can borrow the Camaro for his date with Allison this weekend. Derek rolls his eyes and types back a simple, “No.” 

He's halfway through his reply to Laura when his phone buzzes with a text from Stiles. After quickly finishing his reply to his sister, he checks the message from Stiles. 

**Hope your morning went well... hope the kids don't think you're a pedophile ;)**

Derek growls under his breath. _If I have to explain that my boyfriend is a kinky little shit to them I will. It'll be easy to put the blame on you._

The reply comes almost immediately. **So you'd throw me under the bus and traumatize some high school kids? That sounds like a good way to lose your boyfriend AND your job.**

Derek rolls his eyes. _You'll never leave me. You'll never find better sex than what you've got with me._

**Speaking of that... you still going to punish me tonight? I hope so ;)**

_You shouldn't look forward to it so much. Punishment isn't meant to be enjoyable._

Derek hits send, hesitates, and then sends off a few more messages. No one's going to know if he's sexting at work anyways, right? 

_I'll push you down onto our bed and tie your hands to the headboard._

_I'll pull your hips up so your ass is in the air. Make you stay that way until your thighs burn, and then some._

_I'll spank your ass until it's sore and red. Then I'll stretch you with my fingers and tongue. Maybe I'll even make you use your own fingers._

_And then I'll stretch you some more. Make your hole red and sore until you're begging. Until you can't decide if you want more or if you want me to stop._

Derek pauses. He hasn't gotten any reply from Stiles, and wants to see if this is what the other man has in mind. Just when Derek is starting to think that something's wrong, he gets his reply. 

**Fcuk Derek more dont stop.**

Derek smirks. If Stiles' texting skills are going, he must be doing something right. 

_Do you think you'd be good for me, Stiles? I'd only fuck you if you were. Bad boys don't deserve a cock in their ass._

_I think you'd be bad, Stiles. I don't think you would get my cock up your ass. I'd hold you down with one hand and jack myself off with the other._

_I'd come first. Maybe you wouldn't even get to come at all. Bad boys don't deserve that, do they, Stiles?_

**Id be good.**

Derek grins sharply. 

_I know you would be, baby. You're a very good boy. Usually._

**I was really enjoying this dont ruin it by being mean.**

Derek rolls his eyes. He's suddenly very aware of just how hard he is. Taking a glance at his door (mercifully closed), he adjusts himself in his slacks and prays that it'll go down by the time lunch is over. 

_I'll take care of you tonight, Stiles. Go back to work and don't touch yourself, not there and not when you get home. Wait for me._

**Sounds like fun. I can't wait ;)**

  


After Derek's first day is over, he puts his things back in his briefcase and hurries to his car. He turns it on, but stops for a minute, trying to compose himself. Getting too excited will end things too early. Although, he has been pretty damn excited for tonight since Stiles' antics this morning. 

He wants to make sure he's in control. This is new territory for both him and Stiles, this punishment, playful or otherwise. Derek wants everything to go perfectly. 

His drive back home, only twenty minutes, seems to take forever. He parks besides Stiles Jeep (somehow still alive, though Derek isn't sure how) and all but jogs upstairs to their apartment. 

Stiles is in their cramped kitchen, emptying leftover Chinese onto a paper plate. He grins when Derek walks in and pulls him into a kiss. 

“How was your first day?” he asks eagerly. “Were the kids mean to you? Did you manage to keep them in line, Mr. Hale?” 

Stiles chuckles to himself as he puts the plate in the microwave. Derek watches him with a frown. Stiles isn't giving any acknowledgment to their little conversation earlier today. He had seemed eager earlier, but now he's just acting like his usual, hyperactive self. 

“It was fine,” Derek says. He puts his briefcase on the counter and starts undoing the top buttons of his shirt. “I have one of Lydia's little sisters in my first hour.” 

“Yeah?” Stiles grins. “They're all alike, ya know, all feisty and kinda bitchy. But, like, nice bitchy. Pretty sure they're all geniuses, too, just so you know. I'll have to let Lydia know.” 

The microwave beeps, and Stiles takes his food out. He glances at Derek. “Why don't you change? As sexy as you look all dressed up, I know you prefer those ugly old jeans.” 

“Not ugly,” Derek grunts back reflexively. He watches Stiles lean over the sink and shove lo mein into his mouth, still frowning. Stiles catches him looking and winks. Derek rolls his eyes, grabs his briefcase, and heads down the hall to their bedroom. 

He doesn't get it. Stiles was definitely all for it earlier. As far as their bedroom life goes, Stiles is always up for trying something new. If he's changed his mind.... 

But that doesn't sound like Stiles. What _does_ sound like Stiles, Derek realizes, is giving as good as he gets. He wonders if Stiles somehow thinks this is payback for Derek's text earlier. Now _that_ sounds like Stiles. 

Derek tugs his jeans up, but doesn't bother with a shirt. He crosses to his nightstand, takes out a condom and a half empty bottle of lube, and then pads back into the hallway. 

He takes another sheet from the closet and slips back into their room. He folds the blankets down, fits the top sheet over the bed, and finally heads back into the kitchen. 

Stiles has finished his food and has a beer instead. He's lounging on the couch, the TV droning in the background. Derek hardly notices that, though. Stiles grins when he sees Derek, eagerly and openly taking in his bare chest. 

“Is this a new thing, walking around shirtless? I like it. I'd like it more if you lost the jeans, too, though, I mean–” 

“Shut up,” Derek growls, and Stiles, surprisingly, does. It's Derek's tone that does it. He has two levels of growling: the “I'm done with your shit” growl, and the other, which Stiles contentedly prefers, is his bedroom growl. 

Stiles, eyes wide and mouth ajar, sets his beer on the coffee table and looks up at his boyfriend. Derek appraises Stiles quietly for a moment, taking notice of the pleasant pink flush already creeping up Stiles' neck. Derek closes the distance between them and stands in front of Stiles. With the younger man on the couch, he's perfectly level with Derek's bulging crotch. 

“This is what you wanted, isn't it?” Derek growls, taking a hold of himself through the denim. “You thought you'd be a little tease all night, just wait for me to snap?” 

Stiles says nothing. He's watching Derek slowly palm himself and licking his lips. Derek grips his chin with his other hand and tips his head back, making Stiles look at him. 

“I asked you a question, Stiles,” he says lowly. “I expect an answer when I ask you a question. Were you going to try teasing me until I caved? Try to manipulate me to get what you wanted?” 

Stiles whines. He tries to shake his head, but Derek's firm grip doesn't let him. 

“N-no,” he says. “No, no, I – I just wanted–” 

“Don't lie to me, Stiles. I can tell when you lie to me.” Derek studies Stiles for a moment and finally lets go of his chin. He drops his other hand, too, and takes a step back. Stiles sways forward as if he's trying to follow. 

“I'm disappointed, Stiles,” Derek says. “You said you'd be good for me.” 

“I will!” Stiles says at once. “I will, Derek, so good, I promise, really, really, good for you–” 

“Well you haven't been so far,” Derek says, frowning. He pauses, purely for Stiles' benefit. The younger man whimpers and squirms, not liking the silence. Derek finally speaks back up. 

“I want you to listen closely, Stiles,” he says, and Stiles nods frantically. “I want you to go to the bedroom and undress, just to your underwear. I want you to kneel on the bed and wait for me. Don't move. I'll come get you when I'm ready for you.” 

Stiles squirms again, and Derek raises an eyebrow expectantly. Stiles face flushes, his gaze drops. 

“I'm not wearing underwear,” he mutters finally. Derek almost chokes, but quickly composes himself. 

“I expect you to look at me if you have something to say to me,” he says. “Now let's try that again. This time, speak up and look at me.” 

Stiles does, lifting his gaze again to look Derek in the eye. His face is red now, but whether that's from excitement or embarrassment or both, Derek can't really be sure. 

“I'm not wearing underwear,” Stiles repeats, his voice louder this time. Derek frowns as if he's disappointed, and the look nearly sends Stiles into a panic. “I just wanted to be good for you!” he says quickly. 

“Why would that make you a good boy, Stiles?” Derek says lowly. “Bad boys don't wear underwear, so that makes you a bad boy. That's two strikes, now. You've been very bad already tonight, Stiles, and we haven't even started.” 

Stiles whimpers again. “I want to be good!” he says desperately. 

Derek steps forward again and strokes his hand through Stiles' hair. The younger man sighs and leans into the touch, his eyes drooping. 

“I know you do, Stiles,” Derek murmurs. “I know you want to be good for me. I'll give you one more chance. Go to the bedroom, strip, kneel on the bed, and wait for me. Can you do that?” Stiles nods. Derek's hand slips from his hair to his chin, and he grips it again. “I already told you to answer me when I ask you a question.” 

“I – I can do that.” Stiles nods desperately, hoping that Derek won't hold this against him. Derek considers him for a moment, and then finally, he nods. He lets go of Stiles and steps back. 

“Go on,” he says. Stiles hurriedly stands from the couch and stumbles to their bedroom. 

Derek watches him for a moment before slowly heading to the kitchen. He really want to make sure that this is what Stiles wants. Derek really, _really_ likes this new dynamic between them, but if Stiles isn't comfortable, Derek will stop in an instant. He wants Stiles to have some time to himself to really consider this. 

So Derek takes his time. He makes the rest of the Chinese leftovers, and eats in front of the TV watching _Sports Center_ and sipping a beer. He's careful not to drink too much; he wants to be as clear headed as possible for this. 

After throwing his trash away, Derek strolls back into the living room and turns off the TV. He's only left Stiles alone for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, and that just doesn't seem like long enough. So he sits back down and grabs Stiles' laptop from the coffee table. 

He doesn't want to take too much longer, but he wants to do this, too. He does a few Google searches and comes up with a few reliable looking sites. After another fifteen minutes and some quick skimming, Derek shuts off the laptop and heads back into their bedroom. 

Stiles is just how Derek told him to be; kneeling on the bed, completely nude aside from a red flush coating his skin. He doesn't look up when Derek walks in, but Derek can see his shoulders tense. 

Derek walks over slowly and sits on the edge of the bed in front of Stiles. He raises his hand and strokes Stiles' hair again. The younger man doesn't seem sure how to react to this, but leans into the touch nonetheless. 

“Do you want this, Stiles?” Derek asks quietly. “We can stop whenever you want to. We don't have to do this.” 

Stiles' eyes go wide. “Don't you want to?” he asks. Derek starts to nod, and then hesitates. 

“I want what you want,” he says after a moment. 

The tension leaves Stiles' frame all at once. A dopey grin spreads across his face, and he lurches forward to press a kiss to Derek's lips. It's slow and sweet and soft, and it makes Stiles sigh against the other man's mouth. 

“I love you,” he says, and though the words bring more color to his cheeks, he keeps his gaze level with Derek's. Derek smiles back, just slightly. 

“Love you,” he murmurs back. 

Stiles' smile turns eager, his eyes bright. “Can we start now?” 

Derek chuckles and sits back. “I have some ground rules to set first,” he says. 

“Rules?” Stiles whines. Derek quiets him with a look. 

“You stop when you get uncomfortable, and you _will_ tell me if you do,” he says firmly. “I'll be checking with you. Green means, 'Keep going,' yellow means, 'Slow down, let's talk about this,' and red means, 'Stop.' Okay? Can you remember that?” 

Stiles nods, and then says quickly, “Yeah, yeah, I can.” 

Derek smiles a bit. “Good boy,” he says, and Stiles whimpers. He opens his mouth, but then closes it again, frowning. “You want to say something?” 

“Um....” Stiles face flames even brighter. “I mean, what do you want me to call you?” 

The question confuses Derek somewhat before realization dawns. “Just Derek is fine,” he says. “I don't know if either of us could hear you call me 'Sir' with a straight face.” 

Stiles grins a bit. Derek reaches around and swats his ass; not hard or punishing, more of a tap than anything. Stiles yelps from surprise, but certainly not pain. 

“Wipe that grin off your face,” Derek commands. From his tone alone, Stiles can tell that the game has begun. He quickly schools his features. “There you go.” 

Derek stands and moves to the foot of the bed. The angle gives him a great view of Stiles creamy pale back, dotted with moles and freckles, as well as his ass, resting on his heels. Derek smirks. 

“Face down, ass up,” Derek commands. 

Stiles immediately falls to his elbows. He presses his cheek against the cool sheet and lifts his ass up, just as he's told. Derek walks slowly from side to side, admiring the view from every angle. When Stiles grows restless and squirms, Derek swats his ass again. 

“Hold still,” he orders. 

Stiles whimpers, but does as he's told. He holds still, though it's a struggle, but Derek seems pleased. He walks to the side of the bed, pulls Stiles up further towards the headboard, and then crawls onto the bed himself. He settles behind Stiles and runs his hands slowly over Stiles' ass. 

“What should I do to you first, Stiles?” he murmurs. “Should I spank you? Teach you a lesson for being naughty earlier? Should I start with stretching you? Get your hole nice and loose, and maybe, if you're good, I'll shove my cock in you... how does that sound?” 

“Good,” Stiles manages to choke out. “I'll be good!” 

Derek just smirks. He slides one of his hands along the crack of Stiles' ass. His fingers slide over the younger man's hole, just catching on his rim. The dry friction is more than enough to make Stiles whimper. 

But Derek isn't going to let Stiles have what he wants so easily. He slides his hand away from Stiles' hole and down his thigh. He strokes there, then up along his ass, and back down again. 

Then, without warning, he raises his hand and brings it back down against the flesh of Stiles' ass. The sharp sound of the spank is more startling than the sting of pain, and Stiles is quick to relax and raise his hips for the next hit. 

It doesn't come. Instead, Derek leans over Stiles and grabs the lube from the nightstand. He slicks up his fingers and drops the tube back onto the bed. He puts one hand on Stiles' hip to steady him, and again runs his fingers along Stiles' crack, just brushing over his twitching hole. 

Stiles makes a strangled sound and pushes back, trying to get the fingers to go inside. But Derek just pulls them back. 

“You'll get this when I'm ready to give it to you,” he growls. “Understand?” 

Stiles nods desperately and manages to still his hips. Derek takes his dry hand and delivers a few more swift smacks to Stiles' rear. When it's colored a soft shade of red, Derek returns his grip to Stiles' hip and runs his lube slicked fingers across Stiles' hole. 

This time, Stiles holds perfectly still. Pleased, Derek gives him just the tip of one finger. Stiles whines and squeezes his eyes shut, but still doesn't move. 

Derek gives just a little more, slipping his finger in to the second knuckle. Stiles keens, and although his hips sway, he doesn't press back. 

“Please, Derek,” he slurs. “Please, 's not enough – more, please, _please_.” 

Derek smirks. “You want another finger?” he asks. Stiles nods desperately. 

“Please,” he repeats. _“Please.”_

And Derek relents, because Stiles is being good for him. He presses in another finger, still only halfway. Stiles whines and fists his hands in the sheets. 

Derek drags them in and out slowly, driving Stiles crazy with the pace. Just when Stiles thinks it's going to drive him crazy, Derek presses them all the way, swift and unrelenting. Stiles cries out and jerks his hips; Derek tightens his grip on him. 

Derek goes back to his previous slow pace, sinking his fingers completely in, twisting and scissoring them, and then drawing them slowly back out. He glides past Stiles' prostate without really hitting it, just to tease that much more. 

He leans up and presses his chest against Stiles' back and his lips to the other man's neck. Stiles whines and turns his head, obviously hoping for a kiss, but Derek doesn't give one. Instead, he presses his lips to the shell of Stiles' ear. 

“Do you want me to fuck you, Stiles?” he murmurs. “Do you think you've been a good boy? Do you think that you deserve to have my cock in your ass?” 

Stiles bites his lip. Honestly, it's hard to think with the slow press and glide of Derek's fingers still working him open. 

“I...,” he starts, but his voice trails off into a whimper when Derek finally decides to press against his prostate. Derek presses his fingers against the bundle of nerves as Stiles struggles to speak, stumbling over slurred words. 

“What's that? I don't think I understand,” Derek murmurs, the smug bastard. 

“Want your cock,” Stiles finally chokes out. “Derek, please, Derek, please, 'm a good boy....” 

“You are,” Derek agrees. He sucks a love bite just below Stiles' ear, and then pulls back to blow cool air on it. Stiles whimpers. 

“But,” Derek continues; Stiles whines, and Derek chuckles. “But you weren't earlier, were you, Stiles? You were a very bad boy earlier. I think I need to punish you for that still. Otherwise you won't learn anything.” 

Stiles groans. “No, no, no, please, learned my lesson, I promise,” he rambles. “Derek, Derek, please, want your cock, please.” 

Derek lets out another chuckle. “You have my cock,” he teases, thrusting his denim clad hardness along Stiles' ass. “Right there.” 

Stiles whines, his eyes screwed shut. Derek can be such a bastard. 

“I have to punish you first,” Derek murmurs, “and if you're good, you can have my cock.” 

Stiles purses his lips, but wisely keeps his mouth shut. Derek slides back down until he's knelt behind Stiles again. He lets his fingers slip out of Stiles' ass and ignores Stiles' whines. 

Idly wiping his lube-covered fingers on the sheets, Derek takes a moment to take a good look at Stiles. His ass has faded to a light shade of pink, and his hole is twitching and clenching, desperate for something inside it again. His thighs are just starting to quake from the strain of the position he's in. He still has his hands clenched in the sheets and his eyes squeezed shut as well. 

“How are you doing, Stiles?” Derek murmurs, running his hands over Stiles' ass. 

“Guh,” is Stiles initial reply. After a moment, he manages to lift his head and look back at Derek. “Green,” he mumbles. 

“Good,” Derek murmurs. Without warning, he raises his hand and brings it back down against Stiles' left cheek with a solid _smack._

Stiles cries out. These hits definitely aren't the playful, teasing taps from earlier. These are sure and firm, with a definite purpose: to punish. 

Derek quickly brings his hand down again. He alternates from the left cheek to the right, occasionally smacking the top of Stiles' thighs or the swell of his ass. After thirty solid hits, Stiles is crying messily into the sheets, his ass bright red. 

“Stiles?” Derek says quietly. “Are you okay?” 

“Derek,” Stiles wails. He's shaking all over now, and Derek feels a pit settle in his stomach. “God, green, green,” he says, tripping over the words. Derek relaxes. “Please, Derek, please, I gotta come, _please_....” 

“Not yet,” Derek replies. He presses kisses to Stiles' sore ass, making the other man whimper. “You did so well, Stiles,” he praises, his voice low and soothing. “You were such a good boy for me, weren't you?” 

“Please,” Stiles whimpers. Derek chuckles. 

“You've earned it,” he continues. He grabs the lube and slicks his fingers back up. “Just need to stretch you some more so you can take my cock, okay?” 

Stiles shivers and whimpers. “Need to come,” he begs. “Please, Derek, please!” 

Derek pauses, his fingers hovering over Stiles' hole. He considers it for a moment, glancing between the condom on the nightstand and Stiles' shaky frame. Stiles _has_ been good, he tells himself. Besides that, Derek isn't sure how much more of this Stiles can take. He's still crying, although Stiles himself doesn't seem to notice that. So, for tonight, Derek changes his plans. 

“Think you can come without touching your cock?” he asks, pressing two fingers into Stiles. “With just my fingers in your ass?” 

Stiles whines. After a moment, though, he hiccups and nods. 

He's definitely near his limit for tonight. Derek doesn't mess around now. He swiftly adds another finger to make it three total inside of Stiles. Every other brush glides over Stiles' prostate, and Stiles gives another broken hiccup at each one. 

“Come for me, Stiles,” Derek murmurs. “C'mon, now.” 

Stiles wails, shakes, and all at once, lets go. He lets his body fall when his orgasm starts, but Derek holds him up. He slides one hand around Stiles' hip and takes his cock in his large hand, working Stiles through it. 

When Stiles is spent, Derek rolls him over onto his back. Stiles looks up at him with dazed, glossed over eyes. 

Silently, Derek stands at the edge of the bed. He undoes his jeans, and suddenly, he has Stiles' attention again. Derek pushes his jeans and boxers down just past his ass. He slips one hand under Stiles' head, and grabs his hard cock with the other. 

Stiles gets the idea. Tiredly, he sits up a bit, raises his head, and lets Derek guide his cock into Stiles' mouth. 

Derek's already close. He thrusts into Stiles mouth at a steady pace, panting and watching Stiles. He's too tired to really focus on technique; mostly, he's simply got his mouth hanging open and letting Derek fuck it. 

With a groan, Derek spills down Stiles' throat. Stiles swallows it all, and pulls back from Derek's now lax grip to lick at Derek's spent cock. 

“Good boy,” Derek murmurs. He plays absently with the hair at the base of Stiles' neck. The younger man looks up at him with a lazy grin. 

“I got to swallow this time,” he slurs, his voice wrecked. Derek chuckles. 

“Well, you were very good for me. Good boys get good things,” Derek replies, voice heady and low. 

Stiles groans and presses his head against Derek's hip. 

“Don't start that again,” he says, his eyes slipping closed. “I'm exhausted.” Derek chuckles. He shucks off his jeans and boxers, kicking them to the side. He then grabs Stiles and coaxes him into standing up. When Derek pulls the top sheet off and gently presses Stiles back into the bed. 

“I love you,” Stiles groans, pulling the fresh sheets up. 

Derek rolls his eyes and climbs into bed beside Stiles. He's wincing, and scowls playfully up at Derek. 

“My ass is on fire,” he complains. “I won't be able to drive anywhere for a week!” 

Derek huffs out a loud breath that sounds suspiciously like a stifled chuckle. 

“I didn't hear much complaining before,” he says. 

“I was hard before, that was different,” Stiles says. He settles on his stomach and curls into Derek's chest with a sigh. Derek grumbles, but wraps his arms around Stiles nonetheless. “And... you're different like that.” Stiles draws idle circles on Derek's chest. “I like it. A lot.” 

“Yeah?” Derek says carefully. “I don't want to do anything that you aren't comfortable with, Stiles.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Didn't you just hear me?” he says. “Derek, I really, really like it, okay? I want to do it more often. I don't think either of us are suited for, like, a twenty-four-seven thing, but... when the mood strikes, you know? We'll know when it's right.” 

Derek is quiet for a moment. “Sometimes,” he says finally, “you surprise me and manage to say something mature and intelligent.” 

“Hey!” Stiles yelps. “I am _always_ mature and intelligent!” 

“Sure you are,” Derek says. “Now shut up.” 

Stiles growls, a poor imitation of Derek's signature sound. Derek doesn't let him argue anymore, though, and presses a kiss to Stiles lips. Stiles grumbles into it, but doesn't pull away. 

“You taste like jizz,” Derek says when they pull apart. Stiles rolls his eyes. 

“And whose fault is that?” he retorts. He presses his face back into the crook of Derek's neck and closes his eyes. “Now shut up.” 

Derek snorts. He closes his eyes, too, though, and relaxes into the warm bed. Stiles is a smart ass, but Derek doesn't mind teaching him a lesson or two to keep him in his place.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fic, please leave a comment or kudos! Takes a second, means a lot!


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